Page 64 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 38
It was the day after my visit to Ted’s farmhouse. I wasn’t long back from a frantic last-minute shopping trip and Ted had just telephoned. My heart skipped a beat when I’d heard his voice and, worried he’d rung to tell me he’d changed his mind about playing Santa, a moment of panic had set in. My relief was palpable when he proudly declared that, yes, his Santa suit did still fit, and that it was all systems go for the following evening. I’d got straight on the phone to Lizzie to give her the rundown on our plans for both Seb and Christmas Day.
“I can’t believe you’re doing all this for us.” The surprise in Lizzie’s voice was undeniable. “It’s so kind of you.”
Thankfully Seb was spending the day with his dad so Lizzie and I were able to talk freely.
“And you’re definitely sure you don’t mind?” I asked. “Because if I’ve overstepped the mark, you can tell me. I won’t be offended.”
I considered my own Christmases past, recalling the times when people went above and beyond for me and mum. Neighbours often claimed to have a couple of spare pantomime tickets we might’ve wanted, or to have inadvertently found themselves with more presents to give out than needed. Of course, mum knew such gifts weren’t really mere oversights and although gracious in her response, she hated the fact that we were viewed as a charity case. Not that I thought Lizzie and Seb were penniless. I just wanted Seb’s first Christmas without his father to be a more positive experience than the little boy anticipated.
Lizzie let out a laugh. “Why would I mind? I think what you’ve organised is wonderful.”
Admittedly, I had been worrying about what Lizzie might think. I’d questioned if I should have spoken to her about my intentions, instead of getting everything organised first. “I just wanted to make sure Ted was up for the role before mentioning it,” I said. “I’d have felt awful if I’d opened my mouth, you’d got excited and then he turned around and said no.”
“If anything, I’m grateful, Antonia. Thank you,” Lizzie said. “For everything. I know Seb didn’t give you much of a choice about having us over, which I feel awful about, by the way. I just wish he’d told me what was going on in that little head of his.”
“He probably didn’t want to upset you.”
“He’s all right now. We had a bit of a chat and he can’t wait for Christmas Day. As for him having his own special visit from Santa. That really will be the icing on the cake.” She giggled. “I can’t wait to see his face. It’s certainly going to be a Christmas to remember.”
The joy in Lizzie’s voice was heart-warming. “I wish I could take all the credit,” I replied. “Inviting everyone else was Jules’s suggestion. She’s a friend from back home. I’ve known her since forever. Once I told her you and Seb were coming for Christmas lunch, things sort of snowballed. It’s a Christmas swap kind of thing. Instead of going full on this year, she’s having a quiet day. And vice versa when it comes to me. Jules is also the one who came up with the idea for Santa’s visit.”
“She sounds fun,” Lizzie said.
I pictured my friend’s enthusiasm, not just for all things Yuletide, but for life itself. “She is. If you ever fancy a trip to London, I’ll introduce you.”
“It’s a deal.”
I laughed. “I’ve just realised how bossy I’ve made her sound. And I’m not really just doing as I’m told. Honestly.”
Lizzie chuckled, before letting out a long sigh. “I’m going to miss you when you leave,” she said.
I smiled. Although as kind as that was of her to say, I doubted it. Recalling her first introduction to Barrowboy, Christmas Day was going to be interesting. And if things worked out in the way I hoped, she would be too busy getting to know him to miss me. “You haven’t tasted my cooking yet,” I said. “You won’t be saying that when you’re in the hospital with food poisoning.”
Lizzie laughed again. “You’re sure you can’t hang around a bit longer? I know Seb and I aren’t the only ones who’d like that. From what I hear, our local letting agent will be pretty gutted if you go.”
I smiled. Knowing where that snippet of information had to have come from; it was good to know Lizzie and Barrowboy were still chatting and getting to know each other. “You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told,” I said.
I could almost hear Lizzie’s eye-roll.
“Right, I suppose I should go,” I said. “I’ve got some chairs to clean up.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything you need?”
I glanced at the pile of notes on the coffee table. Taking in the numerous ticks scribbled all over them, I seemed to have everything covered. I pictured myself earlier that day, hotfooting it around Wildeholt, going from shop to shop to shop, picking up all the little extras I’d wanted. My only disappointment was having to buy a wallpaper pasting table for everyone to sit at. Still, at least thanks to Ted and his skip everyone had a proper chair. “I don’t think so,” I replied. My eyes were drawn to the pile of presents, wrapped and labelled under the Christmas tree. I smiled at the sight. My bank account might have taken a battering, but I’d had lots of fun in the process. Finally, I appreciated the last-minute buzz that Jules had talked about when it came to her Christmas preparations. “I appear to be on track.”
After ending our call, I turned my attention to the space around me, wondering where I was going to put the table and chairs. Aunt Lillian’s cottage didn’t have its own dining room and the kitchen was way too small to cater for seven. That only left the lounge in which to seat everyone. I picked up one end of the coffee table and dragged it into position against the wall next to the sideboard and while maintaining the same configuration for the three-piece suite, I simply moved the sofa and armchairs nearer to the fire. “Very cosy,” I said. Standing back to assess the overall effect, I shook my head at Frank who lay cocooned in the centre of them.
The dog continued to laze in front of the flames, not even opening his eyes at the sound of my voice. Looking at him, I frowned, unable to believe how immobile Frank had become. I knew Jules was going to wonder what I’d done to him when we got back to London, because gone was the energetic little hound she’d entrusted in my care. In a matter of weeks, he turned into the canine equivalent of a couch potato.
